


Never Enough

by OutOfTheEquation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, I Don't Even Know, I like my life, M/M, Never enough, Or kill me, Please Don't Hate Me, Tags are overrated, Trickster Gabriel, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:25:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2494367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutOfTheEquation/pseuds/OutOfTheEquation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Will you ever stop hiding behind your pranks? Isn't it enough?"<br/>"It's never enough."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had the beginning of this floating around my phone for a while, figured I better post it.

"Is there nothing else you can tell us?"

Dean was getting impatient. This was the fifth strange occurrence in this town in two weeks. They were always different. Their victims were always unrelated. No one had gotten hurt.

"Well... Just before I appeared in biblical times, I could've sworn I saw someone looking at me. He was just taller than you, agent. Came up to probably your nose." The victim they were questioning gestured to Dean and Sam respectively, "He had a weird golden brown hair colour, but he seemed to be completely alight with mischief."

Dean turned to look at Sam, who had winced and retreated slightly.

"Is he alright?" The victim murmured to Dean, but Sam heard.

"Just had a late night. Keep going. Did this man say anything? Anything that could be useful?"

"Not really. He said 'It's not as fun without Sammy.' I don't know what that means, but I guess that's your job.

Dean looked at Sam, stared at him hard, but Sam only retreated more, a headache now battering at his temples.

The room spun around him, and suddenly he saw the man the victim had described, and only him. His golden brown eyes burning with a playful fire, his long hair combed back neatly, yet never enough for stray loose strands to not escape, to find themselves on the other side of his face.

"Sam! Don't forget me! Please! They're trying to split us up! Please, Sammy! Please... Don't forget me..."

The voice was so loud, so clear, it cut like a knife through his skull, and he had to hold back a whimper at the aching of his head, the aching of his heart. Something missing. Something gone.

"Thank you, Mr Nauver. If you can think of anything else, contact me." Dean hurriedly ended the conversation, helping Sam up, but everything was surrounded in a thick blanket of fog for Sam, every movement taking effort and every voice muffled by it.

He let himself be lead to the car, his mind still on shutdown as he stumbled into his seat and stared out the window. As Dean began driving away, he swore he saw the man again, his own pain reflected in his face, but it was just an instant, and he was gone again the second Sam blinked.

"Are you going to explain what that was?"

"Nothing."

"It knew your name! It sounded like it had messed around with you before! Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Dean, I don't know! Just lay off it, ok?"

Dean stared at him for a moment longer before staring back out the windscreen, while Sam went back to staring out the window.

"Don't forget me..."

The voice came from the radio, and yet it sounded like it came from everywhere. Sam clutched at his head, curling up again into a ball. His skin was so pale he could have been a ghost.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, but his brother shook his head, still in a ball.

"Remember the time, Sammy,  
Remember the time.  
You were smiling,  
Sun was still shining,  
How could you forget?"

The melodious voice from before sang the badly written rhyme through the radio, making it sound as beautiful as honey. Dean tried switching radio stations as it continued singing, but the voice refused to leave them, until it ended the song and faded into white noise.

Sam stared at the radio, the ache in his heart multiplied by the voice, but under that an awe that he had never held for anyone else welled up, and an unwanted tear rolled down his cheek, leaving in its wake a road of salt so similar to his past.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"I don't... I don't know."

"You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry, but I honestly don't know. I'm forgetting something. Something important."

The brakes slammed on and Sam was thrown forwards, startled into full awareness.

"Dean?"

"Sam, I can't do this. A trickster, if that's what this is, is out to get you. You have voices from the radio telling you you're forgetting something. You've been walking around all day like you don't know where you are. Where are you, man? Cause its not here!"

Sam was quiet for a while, but eventually he spoke up. 

"The Trickster."

"What?"

"We're not up against a trickster, we're up against the Trickster."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know."

Sam turned to keep staring out the window while Dean started the car and kept driving, no more questions asked. The air teemed with tension, yet Dean allowed it to simmer while Sam remained completely oblivious to it all, watching the landscape go by.

Without bidding his brother good night, Sam collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow. He wished he remembered, prayed he would remember, but nothing. Lying there, awake, the agony of not remembering sunk deep inside him, ripping him apart from the inside out.


	2. Chapter 2

By some blessing, or a curse, as Sam was beginning to see it, he fell asleep relatively quickly, however his dreams were not at all pleasant. Images of the man, begging him not to forget, pleading with him. And always that darned man, the short one whose brown eyes melted like honey when he smiled, and whose dimpled smile would haunt every girl's dreams.

'And mine' he thought to himself wryly as he rolled over, only to come face to face with the man from his dreams.

"Sam? Sammy?"

"Who are you?" he fumbled for the knife that was hidden under his pillow.

"Don't you remember me?"

A pained look crossed Sam's face, and he rested his forehead against the cool, wooden headboard in an attempt to still the throbbing.

"You alright, Sammy?"

"I asked who you are."

"I'm not here to hurt you in any way, shape or form."

"Then please leave." Sam was speaking through gritted teeth now, the aching in head and heart too much to bear.

The man's face became infinitely sad, and a pull to make him smile embedded itself in Sam's mind. Yet he held strong.

With one last sorrowful look in his direction, the man stood up, walking towards the door. He rested his hand on the doorknob carefully.

"Goodbye, Sam."

He began to twist the knob, but Sam's voice stopped him.

"Gabriel?"

"What?"

"Your name. It's Gabriel, isn't it?"

Gabriel turned around, his gaze burning, and Sam winced at the intensity his eyes held.

"You remember now?" he whispered, sounding like he expected it to be too good to be true.

Sam shook his head.

"Only a name."

Gabriel's face fell, looking even more dejected than before.

"What did they do to you?" The whisper was barely audible, yet Sam heard.

Memories exploded into existence in Sam's subconscious, coming in wave by wave. Memories of hunting the Trickster. Memories of hunting Gabriel. Memories of his fight with Lucifer. Memories of Gabriel's resurrection. Memories of hunts with him. Memories of long nights playing millions of versions of chess, with Gabriel animating each and every move. But most of all, memories of loving him and knowing he could not say a thing.

"Gabe, help." Sam whispered as he curled up in a small ball on his bed, trying to fight the pain of having a safe so large burst into flames in his mind.

A warm sensation covered his body as Gabriel held him close, whispering quiet words of comfort.

The light became too bright for him, and Sam blinked hard against it, turning to focus on the face of the man he had forgotten, the man he loved.

"I remember."

Sam's eyes closed as he lost consciousness, and Gabriel, pulling out his angel blade, stood guard, ensuring his safety as he slept.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam blinked his eyes open, only a fuzzy image reaching his senses. Another blink and the fuzziness was reduced to around the edges of his vision. He tried to sit up, but a headache split through his skull and he fell backwards against the pillow, groaning.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you. Going to just end up in your own tears."

Sam turned to look at Gabriel, who was leaning casually against the desk in the far corner, twirling the angel blade around in his experienced fingers. He watched for a while as his deft, practiced hands spun the blade this way and that, catching it whenever it so much as began to slip. The early morning light reflected in dizzying spirals on the ceiling.

"What happened?"

"You remembered," he replied, shrugging.

Sam shut his eyes against the light, the headache still pushing against his temple before rolling back over. A hand on his arm jolted him out of his half-asleep state, and he turned to look up at the archangel.

"Sam..." he began, but Sam just shook his head.

"Don't."

"But..."

"You did what you have to. Family comes first, you don't have to explain that to me."

Gabriel stared at him for a while longer before nodding, quenching the niggling voice in the back of his mind that hated himself for causing suffering to the only human who had gained his trust.

He slipped under the sheets on Sam's bed, propping himself up on an elbow with his signature smirk and the bright twinkle in his eyes.

"Go sleep, I have some stuff to do. And don't let your idiot brother interrupt your beauty nap."

"You're going to do stuff from here?"

"Please, Sammy, you underestimate just how much I can do from here."

Sam rolled his eyes, but was too tired to argue as he quickly fell asleep, and Gabriel left the bunker for a quick world tour and catch up, stopping in Sweden just before the shops closed and buying a box of chocolate for Sam.

***

Despite his good intentions, Gabriel was already halfway through the chocolates by the time Sam woke up.

"Feeling better?"

Sam shook his head, looking like he needed a cup of coffee.

"Gabe?"

"At your service. I'm available weekends and I'll make an allowance for Mondays, no one seems to like Mondays."

Gabe snapped his fingers, leaving a very confused barista in England, and handed over the cup of coffee to Sam, keeping the mug of hot chocolate to himself.

Sam sipped at the hot drink, watching Gabriel closely. He didn't seem to have changed much since he last saw him. He still had the genuinely mischievous aura oozing out of him, but even so, something was different. His eyes looked darker, and his restlessness seemed to now have an edge to it, almost like he was nervous or worried about something instead of a need to constantly be doing something.

"Gabe, what happened after... You know?"

Gabriel looked up at Sam, met his gaze for the first time since he had remembered, but quickly looked away, snapping his fingers.

"Pancakes, Samantha?" he asked, keeping his tone deliberately light as he passed over a plate stacked with them, snatching one off the top of the pile.

"Gabriel."

Gabriel fixed him with a glare.

"Mind your own business. And eat your pancakes."

With a loud snap of his fingers, he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Cookie points to you if you read this :)  
> ... Now please don't kill me


End file.
